


Spider Guts

by TheseusInTheMaze



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Arachnid Ex Machina, Clothing Kink, Frotting, Hand Job, M/M, Pining, Podfic Welcome, Sharing Clothes, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-17
Updated: 2018-11-17
Packaged: 2019-08-25 02:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16652713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheseusInTheMaze/pseuds/TheseusInTheMaze
Summary: Poor Ryan. He needs to look before he runs into a bush.





	Spider Guts

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Thank you, Beau, for the suggestion to add Skunk Ape in!

So maybe searching for Skunk Ape was a bad idea.

Looking for something that was notoriously smelly, and something that trekked around in the hot, wet parts of the states, and this was just… gross.

Shane was biting back a few complaints - okay, Shane was biting back _more_ than a few complaints, because he was tired, his feet hurt, his back hurt, and he was muddy and tired.

Ryan wasn’t in much better shape - he wasn’t the most outdoorsy person at the best of times, and he’d been in a rotten mood since they’d touched down in this godforsaken bit of the country, because the bag with all of Ryan’s clothes was in Honolulu. 

Of course it was.

And okay, so maybe Shane could be blamed on what happened next, but only a little bit. 

Because Shane turned his face up, did a theatrical sniff, and said “do you smell something?” and at _that very moment,_ something snapped in the underbrush, and Ryan startled… and tripped.

Tripped rather spectacularly, and fell into a bush. 

It was borderline slapstick - there was a lot of snapping and crashing and a whole lot of swearing - and Shane didn’t even try to hold his laughter back.

“I hate you,” came from inside the poor, mauled bush.

Shane leaned over, and he offered Ryan a hand up, albeit awkwardly, since the only light they had was the flashlight.

“I think we should call it a night,” said Shane. “We can come back tomorrow.”

“I need to go clothing shopping,” said Ryan, but he took Shane’s hand, letting himself be pulled up.

Something scuttled across Shane’s hand, and Shane tried not to make too much of a fuss as he shook it off.

He didn’t want Ryan to freak out, as funny as it would be.

… he didn’t want Ryan to freak out _too_ badly.

“We can do that tomorrow,” Shane said. “We’ve got three days here.”

The two of them made their way towards the van, and then Ryan was in the headlights… and Shane tried not to scream.

There were things moving.

There were a _lot_ of things moving, and Ryan looked down at himself, his eyes wide.

… at least Ryan wasn’t shouting?

“Spiders,” Ryan said in a choked off voice.

“There sure are a lot of ‘em,” Shane agreed, in what he hoped was a calming tone of voice.

TJ was just staring, his eyes wide.

It was pretty impressive, considering how hard the guy was, usually, to nonplus.

And then Ryan began to move.

“They’re down the back of my shirt,” Ryan said, in a choked of voice.

And then there was a lot of flailing.

* * *

Ryan sat next to Shane, and he was wearing Shane’s flannel shirt.

He wasn’t wearing his own shirt - he was wearing his own pants in a ginger sort of way, and he looked _supremely_ uncomfortable. 

“I think I’ve got spider balls down the back of my knees,” said Ryan.

“Spiders don’t have balls,” said TJ.

Shane was trying not to stare at the way his shirt looked on Ryan.

Ryan had slapped himself a lot, killing spiders, and then he’d pulled his shirt off, and he’d wiped some of the dead spider… bits off of himself.

“I’m going to be naked tomorrow,” Ryan moaned. 

“You can borrow some of my clothes,” Shane said in what he hoped was a soothing tone of voice. “We can use the hotel laundry to get the spider bits out of them, and then we can get you some clothes tomorrow.”

“Thanks,” Ryan said, and he sighed. “This is just… this is going badly.” 

“Sometimes it’s like that, unfortunately,” said Shane, and he suddenly had to fight off the urge to wrap an arm around Ryan’s shoulders.

That would, of course, not go over so well - Ryan wasn’t really one for that kind of touchy feely… stuff, and anyway, Shane had his own lines.

So maybe he took a bit of a... notice to the attractiveness of his cohost, and maybe there had been some furtive masturbation at odd hours, maybe there had been some lonely daydreaming during quiet nights, but... well.

That wasn't something that Shane would ever pursue.

That wasn't for him.

"We never should have gone looking for this stupid Skunk Ape," Ryan groused. "Who's even _heard_ of fucking... Skunk Ape?!"

"I mean," said TJ, "you did. It's why you suggested it."

"You can't really argue with that," Shane pointed out.

Ryan was still glaring, and then he was flopping back into his seat, covering his face with both hands.

"Urgh," said Ryan. "The universe is clearly out to get me."

"Totally," Shane said, his voice completely flat. 

He put his hands behind his head, to resist the urge to reach out and pet Ryan's hair back, to wrap an arm around Ryan's shoulders, to... well. 

Even Shane wasn't sure what he wanted to do, except that it was a bad idea.

Shane's fingers combed through his own hair, and he tugged on it gently, the pressure helping ground him.

Ryan yawned, and Shane tried not to stare at the way his shirt hugged Ryan's biceps, the sleeves covering Ryan's hands.

There was something... weird about Ryan wearing his clothes; something almost perverse in how mundane it was.

It was one thing to drool over Ryan in a sweaty basketball jersey after a workout, or when he posted pictures of himself in button down shirts that were straining against the bulges of his muscles. 

It was a totally different thing, to be ogling at Ryan in one of Shane's soft flannel shirts; a shirt that had been washed a million times already, a shirt that had been nothing special when Shane had put it on this morning, but was now the most precious piece of clothing that Shane owned.

Oh _god_ , how the fuck was Shane's head going down that road?

That was not a good road to go down.

"You should wear red more often," Shane said, and almost immediately regretted it. 

Ryan looked at him sidelong.

"Hm?"

"Red. It, uh... it suits you," said Shane. "It, uh... it does interesting things to your skin."

"Interesting things," Ryan echoed back, and he looked faintly perplexed, his eyes catching the passing overhead lights, his whole face illuminated, then back in shadow. 

"... I've been studying color theory, since I've been making more videos lately," said Shane, which wasn't a lie, but... well, time and a place. 

"Oh," said Ryan. "Although I feel like saying that it does "interesting" things to my skin is, like, accidentally insulting."

"It's a good kind of interesting," Shane promises. "It brings out the, uh... it brings out the red tones."

"Huh," said Ryan. "Why color theory?"

"You went to film school," said Shane. "You know what color can do."

"Yeah, yeah," said Ryan, and he sighed, then yawned again, before giving a full body shiver. "I think I can still feel those fucking spiders."

"There weren't _that_ many spiders," Shane said, in a tone of voice that even he could tell was solicitous.

"Listen," said Ryan, "any number of spiders in your clothes is too many spiders."

"I don't think I'd mind a few spiders in my clothes," Shane said. "I think it might be refreshing."

"... refreshing," Ryan said, his voice flat. 

"Yeah," said Shane. "Like a good massage. Or one of those fancy things that are like vibrators but aren't."

"What," said Ryan. 

No inflection, no shock, just a flat "what," which is almost worse. 

"It's like a vibrator, but, like, for your skin. Like when you exfoliate."

"Do you exfoliate often?"

"Ryan, we work at Buzzfeed," said Shane. "We've both been shoved in front of the camera and had stuff slathered on our faces more times than we can count."

That startled a laugh out of Ryan, and his cackling filled the small space.

"I can't really argue with that," Ryan said, and he was breathing heavily, still giggling, occasionally breaking into another peal of laughter, then calming down again.

"No?"

"I wore a whole bunch of women's swimsuits on camera, remember?"

Ryan's fingers were rubbing along the cuff of Shane's sweater, and Shane tried not to stare too hard, because Ryan had very nice fingers, and the fabric looked so warm against Ryan's fingertips. 

An image flashed in Shane's head - Ryan riding Shane's cock, only wearing the flannel shirt.

And Shane blushed.

Shane blushed so hard that he went a little dizzy, or maybe that was from the blood that was going down into his cock, his cock beginning to throb in time with the pounding in his ears.

"I sure do," said Shane. "It's, uh... it was something."

Ryan snorted.

"I don't think I can pull off lady's swimsuits," said Ryan.

"I think anyone can pull off anything, if they try hard enough," said Shane.

"What, so if I tried to tuck or shaved my... everything, I'd look good?"

"Nah," said Shane. "I'm just saying. If you wanted to wear a lady's swimsuit, I've got faith that you'd find a way to make yourself look amazing."

"Thanks," said Ryan.

He sounded... shy.

"This is a weird conversation to be overhearing," TJ said from the front seat.

"Sorry about that," said Shane, although he wasn't sure if he was or not.

"I mean," said Ryan, "as Shane pointed out, we _do_ work at Buzzfeed."

"There are so many times when that's just been used as an explanation, when I'm not sure if it actually is or not."

Shane shrugged.

"If you'd ended up a doctor like your brother, I don't think you'd be in situations where you're wearing lady's underwear on camera or anything like that," said Shane.

"Well," said Ryan, "I can't really argue with that, can I?"

"I'm sure you could find a way to do it," said Shane. "Argue, I mean."

The two of them were very tired; maybe that was why Shane's mouth was starting to run away with him, as was his brain.

Maybe that's why he answered Ryan's next question honestly.

"Hey Shane?"

"Mm?"

"How come _you_ aren't ever being put in women's swimsuits or stuff like that?"

"My butt doesn't look as good as yours," said Shane. "I've got too much limb. I'd just look weird."

... shit.

"You think my butt looks good?"

Ryan sounded surprised.

"I mean," said Shane, and now he was scrabbling in his head, and he was well aware of it, but couldn't stop, "it's nicer than mine. You've definitely put more work into yours."

Ryan snorted. 

"You'd look... interesting in a women's bathing suit," he said, and he was looking at Shane with a speculative expression.

"I'd look like someone had somehow tried to yarn bomb a tree," said Shane. "Not actually yarn bombing, though. Bikini bombing? Is that a thing?"

"I wasn't thinking of a bikini, personally," said Ryan. "Although that'd be fuckin' hilarious, I must say."

"Bikini bomb sounds like the name for some Pussy Riot wannabe," TJ put in from the back seat.

"Bikinis, Not Bombs?" Ryan was staring into the middle distance, his expression thoughtful. "I'd wear the fuck out of a shirt that said that, except I'd look like some kind of meathead creeper."

"The trick is to give it to people who usually wear bikinis, so it looks more like they're pro wearing a bathing suit, versus someone who usually doesn't wear a bikini," said Shane.

This conversation was taking a surreal turn, and Shane wasn't entirely sure how they'd gotten here. 

"But how can I look at someone and tell if they're the type of person who wears a bikini normally?"

"I don't know. Maybe you'd have to ask them first, to make sure."

Shane's head was starting to hurt.

He was stupidly turned on, and he was trying to follow one of Ryan's weird trains of thought.

It was beginning to get on his nerves.

How dare Ryan look so goddamn good, wearing Shane's shirt?

... now the image of Ryan in a bikini and Shane's shirt was beginning to slip through Shane's mind, and that was enough to make him groan, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"You okay, big guy?"

Ryan sounded faintly worried. 

"Yeah," said Shane. "Yeah, I'm okay. It's just, uh... it's been a day. Y'know?"

"Oh yeah," said Ryan. "And we've got more Skunk Apery to look forward to tomorrow."

"Oh goody," said Shane, his tone flat. "At least you seem to have cheered up towards the guy."

"It isn't his fault that shit is going pear shaped," said Ryan. "It's not like "control over spiders" is a thing that's discussed, when it comes to Skunk Ape."

"Is there one Skunk Ape, or are they a species?" 

"I'm not sure," said Ryan. "Reports vary."

"I mean," said Shane, "personally, if I see something hairy that smells bad loitering around the forest, I tend to just assume it's the locals."

"Skunk Ape is rumored to be at least the size of a black bear," Ryan pointed out. "How many people do you know that size?"

"It depends on the bear," said Shane. "I mean, I'm about the size of a black bear, but that doesn't make _me_ a skunk ape."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't smell that bad," Shane said, "and I'm not _nearly_ hairy enough." 

“Just keep telling yourself that, big guy,” said Ryan. He was grinning, the whiteness of his teeth flashing from the passing streetlight. 

Shane snorted, and he looked out the window, watching the shadows of the trees going by. 

So maybe he had a crush.

It would abate… eventually. 

For now, he could just worry about his friend not having any clothing to wear for the evening, and go from there.

“You can borrow some of my stuff,” said Shane, as they pulled into the hotel parking lot. 

“You sure? I don’t know if it’d fit.”

“You can at least borrow a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt for the night,” said Shane. “Tomorrow you can borrow a pair of TJ’s jeans or something, and we can stop by a Kmart to get you some pants and a shirt.”

“You really thought of everything, huh?”

Ryan sighed, and he reached a hand out unexpectedly, to pat Shane on the arm.

"Thanks, man," he told Shane. "For all of this. I know that you're not the biggest fan of cryptid hunting."

"Cryptid hunting can be fun," Shane protested, and he tried not to pay too much attention to the way that Ryan's hand was resting on his arm.

Touching each other like this was a thing that bros like Ryan did, right?

"Yeah, but... fucking skunk ape," groused Ryan. "Why did I think this would be a good idea?"

"Probably because it gave you a chance to make a bunch of cracks about my height," said Shane. 

Ryan grinned at Shane, and he looked faintly sheepish. 

"You know me well," he told Shane.

"What can I say? Being joined at the hip with a guy professionally for a few years can help you figure out what it is that makes them tick."

Shane was blushing before he even finished his sentence.

Shit.

That was an awkward thing to say, wasn't it?

He cleared his throat and unbuckled his suitcase, although Ryan didn't seem too bothered by it.

Ryan had started to grouse about the spiders to TJ, who was making vaguely sympathetic noises, as the three of them started to unload the car. 

TJ and Mark were bunking together, and Ryan and Shane were bunking together, the way it usually went.

Shane was totally fine with that - he'd even gotten good at it.

Gotten good at hiding his boners, gotten good at counting to twenty in German, gotten good at generally distracting himself from... well, from Ryan being Ryan.

"So I can borrow your clothes?"

Ryan was looking at Shane with a faintly nervous expression.

"Yeah," said Shane. "Just go through my suitcase, take whatever."

"I can wash my underwear in the sink," Ryan said, his tone gloomy, "but I think there's still gonna be spider guts all over it."

"Are you worried about ghost spiders?"

Shane made a flourishing gesture with his fingers in a gesture that he hoped implied spookiness. 

Ryan gave a full body shudder.

"I don't want to think about that," he said firmly. 

Shane snorted.

"How about you shower, go through my suitcase, I'll go looking for some dinner."

"Anything in particular you want me to not wear?"

"Wear whatever," said Shane, in a burst of what was probably stupidity, but fuck it. "Anywhere I can get dinner?"

"There's a diner nearby," said Ryan. "You could probably walk there."

"You think?"

Shane unlocked the door to their room, flipping the light on and blinking.

Your standard motel room.

Neither offensive nor inoffensive.

There was a painting of a duck on the wall next to the window.

"Yeah," said Ryan. "Can you bring me a burger?"

"Sure," said Shane. "You don't wanna come with?"

Ryan was beginning to unbutton Shane's shirt, and Shane was trying not to stare, because... woof.

There sure was a lot of skin on display now, and he was trying not to ogle too much.

There weren't any visible spider... bits, at least, thankfully.

"I want to get all of this spider... whatnot off of me," said Ryan.

He draped Shane's shirt over the back of a chair, and he made a face.

"Sorry," Ryan said. "I probably got spider guts on your shirt."

"Don't worry about it," Shane assured Ryan, because he probably would have been okay with the goddamn Skunk Ape wearing the thing, as long as Ryan wore it first.

... well, maybe not Skunk Ape. 

"So. Burger for you," said Shane, and he tried not to stare as Ryan began to unbuckle his belt.

Ryan was just... shoving his jeans down, stepping out of them, and he was in just a pair of black boxer briefs, which didn't leave much to the imagination, and _oh_ had Shane's imagination gone down that road a few times.

"Right," said Shane, and he stood up before his dick could give him away. "So burger for you?"

"Yeah, and a strawberry shake," said Ryan.

"Fries too?"

"Yes, please," said Ryan. 

"Sounds like a plan," said Shane, and he gave a thumbs up, then hurried out of the room.

When he closed the door behind him, he groaned, putting both hands on the wood of it, resting his forehead against it.

_Nice one, dumbass._

* * *

Shane got Ryan a burger with all of the various fixings - he knew what kind of fixings Ryan liked now, and wasn't that a trip and a half?

It was weird, to think that his life was so intertwined with Ryan's, in ways that he didn't really think about, except they were there.

... he must have been loopy, if he was being so intense about this. 

Maybe he needed to get a partner, or go to a sex worker, or... something.

He got himself a steak sandwich and his own milkshake, and he made his way back to their hotel, the bags dangling carefully from his bony wrists.

* * * 

Shane nearly dropped the bags, when he unlocked the door to their hotel room.

Ryan was sprawled on the bed, and he was wearing Shane's grey pants.

The soft grey joggers, which were tighter around the thigh on Ryan than they were on Shane, and they were long enough to flop over Ryan's feet. 

He was wearing one of Shane's long sleeve shirts as well - a dark green one, made of waffle fabric.

His hair was drying in fluffy clumps, and he was still pink from his shower.

"Hey," said Ryan, and he smiled at Shane, looking sheepish. "Is this okay?"

"It's great," Shane said, his voice thick. "Absolutely great."

Oh _god_ , Ryan looked... he looked so comfortable.

Comfortable, almost cute, but the fabric hugged tight enough in certain spots that Ryan's body looked like a topographical map.

Shane wanted to run his hands all over Ryan's body, to feel it, to see just how well the fit was.

These were clothes that had been on _his_ body, and now they were on _Ryan's_ body, and in some ways that was like Ryan's own body pressed against his own.

Oh god.

Shane's heart was beating very fast in his ears, fast and loud - he couldn't hear whatever it was that Ryan was saying, as Shane set down the bags of food on the small table, and then he sat down, leaning down to untie his boots, crossing his legs in such a way as to hide his erection.

... he hoped.

"So good news about my luggage," Ryan was saying. "They're routing it back to LA. So I'm not actually going to see my stuff until I get back home, but at least I'll get it."

"That's good," said Shane.

"Tomorrow I'll get some jeans, maybe a few t-shirts and some underwear," said Ryan, and he made a face. "I still can't believe that this happened."

"At least now you know to bring along some clean underwear in your carry on, right?"

Ryan sighed, and he was making a face.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "In fairness, I couldn't have seen this happening."

"What, your luggage being rerouted?"

"No," said Ryan. "Spiders getting into my clothes to the degree that I have to wash all of it."

Shane snorted, then made a face.

"What, you would have worn your underwear multiple days in a row?"

"I mean, maybe not multiple-multiple days," said Ryan. "I'd have turned it inside out first."

"Oh my god," said Shane, "you're like that guy from Big Hero Six."

"Hm?"

"The stoner one, whose Dad was Stan Lee," said Shane. 

"... what?"

"He had a whole system of wearing his underwear. Right side out, inside out, back to front, then front to back."

"Why do you remember this in the first place?"

Ryan looked some mix of scandalized and amused, and he was digging through his dinner bag, pulling out the occasional fry and nibbling on it. 

"It stuck in my head for some reason," said Shane, making a face. "Possibly because I was surprised to see someone talking about that in a fucking Disney movie in the first place."

"Fair enough, fair enough," said Ryan, and then he was pushing up the sleeves of Shane's shirt, so that he could reach for his burger.

The sleeves fell forward almost immediately, and Shane tried not to stare.

God, he was the biggest creep ever, wasn't he?

"I figured you wouldn't miss your warmer stuff, since you've been complaining about how warm it is around here," said Ryan. 

"Right," said Shane. "Thanks."

"It's super comfy as well," Ryan said. "Where do you get your clothes?"

"Oh," said Shane, "you know, the usual places."

Ryan liked wearing Shane's clothes.

Oh _god_.

Ryan snorted.

"That's not an answer," he informed Ryan.

"There are, in fact, clothes that aren't Lakers jerseys or button downs that don't fit you," said Shane.

"My button downs fit fine," Ryan retorted.

Shane raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

"You look like you're going to burst a button if you sneeze at the wrong moment," said Shane.

"Well," said Ryan. "Well."

"Well?"

Shane took a bite of his sandwich. 

"I can't help it," Ryan mumbled. "I kinda... ended up bulking up faster than I intended."

"You mean you didn't intend to Hulk out to the degree that you did?"

"I mean," said Ryan, "I'm not _complaining_ about it. It's nice."

The shirt that he was wearing hugged his chest, giving it some definition, and Shane took a long drink of his milkshake, so he wasn't staring too hard.

Ryan's chest was definitely defined in all of that - Shane didn't exactly have much in the way of a chest.

The shoulders were also filled out, and the fabric of the arms was practically bulging.

"Are you sure that's comfy? I know I'm scrawnier than you are."

Shane sounded totally normal as he said it, right?

Totally.

"I wouldn't call you scrawny," said Ryan. 

"No?" 

“You’re gangly,” said Ryan. “Like… shit, what was that description in that one Douglas Adams novel?”

“You read Douglas Adams?” 

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I dunno. You don’t seem like a Douglas Adams fan.”

“I can be a lot of things,” said Ryan. “But _anyway_ , the thing I was talking about. He described someone as, like, if you took a David Bowie and stacked it on top of another David Bowie, and added a David Bowie on each wrist….”

“Yeah?”

“I think it ended with “he was tall and he gangled,” which sounds about right to you,” said Ryan.

“Surely I’m less gangly than I used to be,” said Shane. 

This was a safe topic, wasn’t it?

He ate a fry.

“I mean,” said Ryan, “we’re all better looking than when we were younger.”

“You mean you _don’t_ buy into the Californian ideal of being perfectly youthful and beautiful?”

Shane shoved more fries into his mouth.

Ryan snorted.

“There are things to be said for being older and more experienced,” he said.

Shane couldn’t entirely read Ryan’s face, but then again, Shane probably couldn’t read his own name, as horny as he was.

Reading comprehension required blood in the brain, and all of Shane’s blood seemed to be pumping through his cock.

“And you call yourself a Californian,” said Shane. 

“You’re a Californian too,” Ryan pointed out.

“I’m a transplant,” Shane shot back.

God, one sleeve was flopping over Ryan’s hand, and Shane licked his lips, shifting in his seat.

He was not going to stare.

He was _not_.

“Fuck,” said Ryan, and Shane looked over, eyes wide.

There was a blob of ketchup on the sleeve - the red screamed against the green fabric. 

"Fuck, sorry," said Ryan, and then he was... _putting his mouth on the fabric_ , sucking the ketchup off of it. 

Shane made a noise.

Not even much of a noise, as far as Shane was concerned, although it was coming out of his own mouth, so how was he supposed to really... judge it?

His heart was beating very loudly, a throbbing beat like something in a rave.

Ryan looked at him, one eyebrow up.

"Y'know," he said, his tone casual, "if you wanna keep ogling me like that, that's fine, but if you're gonna make obscene noises, I'm gonna have to ask for _some_ kinda compensation."

"... what."

Shane's voice was very dry and very flat in his own ears.

"Compensation," said Ryan. "You've been enjoying yourself, no judgement, but still." 

"Still," Shane echoed.

Ryan looked so fucking... calm, as if this was just some conversation they were having. 

As if it wasn't some kind of... what were they having?

Was this a moment?

Were they having a moment?

Were they at the point of having moments?

When did you get to the point of having moments?

"Is this, like, a thing for you?"

"What do you mean by this?"

Shane put down his sandwich.

He'd left indents on the bread, where his knuckles were turning white, and there was steak sauce dripping down his wrist. 

"Your clothes," Ryan said casually. "I mean, I could tell it was pretty obvious that it's a thing that you're into, but if you're gonna be so... blatant about it -"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Shane said, and he was speaking as mechanically as a robot.

"Listen," said Ryan, "I know that you think I'm gullible when it comes to passing shadows or stuff on the spirit box -"

"Because neither of those are things to be afraid of," Shane interrupted.

"But," Ryan continued, steamrolling over Shane's interruption, "I'm not stupid."

"I don't think you're stupid," said Shane. 

"So stop treating me like I am," said Ryan, and he crossed his arms across his chest, frowning. 

"What?"

"Shane," said Ryan, and now his voice was going sharp, "am I wrong, or have you been hiding a boner since you got back from getting food?"

"Um," said Shane. 

"And yeah, so you've been shooting me lovesick looks for what feels like months at -"

"It has _not_ been months," Shane said weakly. 

"But you don't deny the lovesick looks," Ryan said.

Shane groaned, covered his face, and then made a disgusted noise, as he got steak sauce on his face.

Ryan made an amused noise, and he tossed a napkin at Shane. 

"Nice, dumbass," said Ryan.

Shane flipped him the bird, wiping his face off.

"I... there is some attraction," Shane said finally, "that's... that okay, I've been thinking about... well, you know, I've been thinking. But it's not what it looks like." 

"What do you think it looks like?"

"I... what... I."

Shane was babbling.

"It's a simple question, really," said Ryan, and he was being _smug_ about it, the motherfucker.

"Well," said Shane. "Um. I'm honestly not sure what it looks like, honestly. I had an idea of what I thought it looked like, but this is obviously not it. Or should I say that is obviously not it." 

"What is "it" in this case?"

Ryan looked amused.

"It's... um."

Shane licked his lips. 

"Um?"

"It," said Ryan, "is the fact that you want to fuck me."

"I mean," said Shane, "so do large portions of the internet community." 

"Yeah, but large portions of the internet community aren't in this room with me," said Ryan. "You are. You're sitting there with a boner, looking at me in your clothes, and having some sort of feelings about something."

"Um," said Shane. 

"Dude," said Ryan, and now he was... he was _standing up_ , and he was coming around the table, and he was standing next to Shane.

He was practically towering over Shane.

"Dude," Shane parroted back.

Ryan was leaning down, and his hands were on Shane's face, still covered with the sleeves of Shane's shirt, and then he was leaning down, and he was kissing Shane.

Ryan was kissing Shane.

Huh.

That right there was a sentence, wasn't. 

Two nouns (proper nouns, even), a verb. 

What did you call the bit of a sentence that was things like "was"? 

Shane couldn't remember that.

Especially with the warmth of Ryan's mouth against his own, the coldness of Ryan's nose pressed against his cheek. 

Ryan’s tongue was in Shane’s mouth, and it was a very nice tongue, but wow, Shane’s thought process was taking a nose dive, wasn’t it?

He moaned, and then his hands were coming up, to cup Ryan’s cheeks, his thumbs against Ryan’s cheekbones, the tips of his middle fingers pressed into the thin hair at Ryan’s temples. 

“Oh,” said Ryan, and he pulled back, forehead to forehead, panting into Shane’s face. “You know, you never struck me as the type who’d have this kinda kink.”

“What kinda kink?”

Shane blinked at Ryan, his eyes half lidded, his mouth still open as he panted.

“You like seeing me in your clothes,” said Ryan, and then he was _stroking his sweater covered hand across Shane’s cheek_ , what the fuck, no, that was fucking cheating.

Ryan moaned, and then Ryan was pulling Shane’s chair back, Ryan was… straddling Shane’s lap, and the hotel chair was beginning to creak ominously, but… oh god, Ryan’s cock was hard, Ryan’s hard cock was leaving a wet spot in _Shane’s_ pants, and the next time Shane wore those pants, he’d remember what that looked like, and....

Shane moaned.

He couldn’t help it - how could he help it, when Ryan was sitting on his lap, pressed as close as close could get, and Ryan was sweating through Shane’s shirt, but he was also reaching down, to press down on Shane’s cock through Shane’s chinos, and even that little bit of pressure was enough to make Shane’s hips twitch. 

“You’re such a pervert, big guy,” said Ryan.

“Not on purpose,” Shane said weakly, because… well. 

What was the defense against that, anyway?

“There are worse things to be,” said Ryan, and he was fumbling open Shane’s pants, shoving the two sides open, and then he was wrapping his hand around Shane’s cock. “Jesus, what do you even _need_ this much dick for?”

“I… it’s attached,” Shane said, because what else was he going to say to that?

How do you _respond_ to someone commenting on your dick size,let alone in an accusatory way?

“That’s not fair,” said Ryan. “You’re adding to the dick deficit.”

“I’m adding to the _what_?”

“Shane,” Ryan said, “I’m really fucking turned on, and it’s hard to really… think when I’m this turned on, so the natural filter that my brain supplies is absent." 

“You have a filter?”

“You’re really funny,” said Ryan, his voice flat, and then he was shoving down the waistband of his (of _Shane’s_ ) sweatpants, and he was rubbing their cocks together, pressing the heads together.

Ryan’s pre-come was smearing along Shane’s shaft, and Ryan’s mouth was on Shane’s again, his tongue in Shane’s mouth, and he was groaning.

… it was like his work out noises, only _moreso_ , and that shouldn’t have been so fucking hot - it wasn’t fair.

Shane groaned like he was dying.

Maybe he was.

Maybe he’d died and gone to some strange limbo-esque heaven (heaven-esque limbo?) and now he had his best friend cum cohost in his lap, and their dicks were out, and okay, that was a nice dick.

“You have a nice dick,” said Shane, and he wrapped his own hand around Ryan’s hand, forcing their cocks closer together, and the fabric of Shane’s sweater was trapped against them, nubbly and soft, with the warmth of Ryan’s hand in it too.

Shane looked up into Ryans’ face, and Ryan was grinning at him, his face so close to Shane’s, and then Shane was beginning to shake, as the silky hot slide of their cocks together left Shane’s eyes rolling back in his head.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Shane gasped, and then he was grabbing hold of Ryan’s shoulder, the fabric wrinkling under his fingers, and it was _his_ shirt, but Ryan’s sweat soaking through it, Ryan’s body underneath the fabric, and that… oh fuck….

The sweet pressure that had been building in Shane’s gut snapped like a rubber band, and he kissed Ryan again, as he shook, his orgasm washing through him like a wave, leaving him limp and shaking, clutching Ryan to him. His cock swelled and throbbed, pulsing with each spurt of come.

Shane’s come splattered across his fingers, across Ryan’s, and then it was all along his sweater, and Ryan was using it as a lubricant, jerking his hips forward.

Ryan came across Shane’s stomach, still moving his cock, and then he was gasping, and he was coming on Shane’s shirt, except they were _both_ Shane’s shirt, and that was enough to make Shane’s cock twitch again, barely, even as Ryan panted, coming down from his orgasm carefully. 

“Oh,” said Ryan, “shit.”

“Hm?”

“You’re going to need to do a whole bunch of laundry,” Ryan said, and then he was rubbing come into Shane’s shirt, the jerk.

It was slimy as it soaked through the fabric, right up against Shane’s stomach. 

“Look at it this way,” said Ryan. “At least you’re not going to have to wash spider guts out of it.”

Shane snorted. 

“There is that,” he said.

The chair creaked again, but Shane didn't move - the warmth of Ryan’s body against his own was just too good to pass up.

**Author's Note:**

> RIP, all the fictional spiders that died so that Shane and Ryan could get it on.


End file.
